


Of Wayward Sons

by greygerbil



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, outside pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2020-12-24 14:50:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21101273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greygerbil/pseuds/greygerbil
Summary: Nikolaos is surprised how well Alexios and Stentor seem to get along lately.





	Of Wayward Sons

**Author's Note:**

  * For [smaragdbird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smaragdbird/gifts).

In the beginning, Stentor had abhorred Alexios and Nikolaos had known it was for his sake. The pain of his apparent loss had cut the one son he still had rights to as deep as a knife, left stuck in his gut to twist again and again when he remembered that he had been the one to recommend Alexios to Nikolaos in Megaris; Stentor had not told him this, but Nikolaos knew him well enough to trace those thoughts. Then, abandoned by Nikolaos without as much as a word, thinking him dead, Stentor had fought tooth and nail to bear the responsibility he had left him, and of course Alexios resurfacing as a messenger of the king must have had his blood boiling. But though he had asked Nikolaos where he had gone and what he had done, and though he’d been ready to fight his brother to the death for the crime he’d thought he’d committed, Stentor had never dared question why he had been left behind by Nikolaos without a hint to his survival. That had only come from Alexios, who was bolder with Nikolaos, less reverent, and Nikolaos did not begrudge him that since after all he had not given Alexios a reason to respect him.

But both of his sons were not as hard as they pretended to be. Alexios was ready to give another chance of sorts. Obviously, much could not be made up for, but if there was still something, anything to regain, then Nikolaos would try to show himself worthy. Stentor, of course, had always forgiven Nikolaos everything, no matter what hurt or insult, and Nikolaos had a feeling that it was also for his benefit that Stentor began to mellow around Alexios, knowing that Nikolaos wished to have his older son in his life. His hostility eventually simmered down to bratty taunts and jabs, which seemed much more fitting between brothers. Alexios indulged him in that, always biting back, but never escalating. Soon, Nikolaos felt no need to keep an eye on them anymore.

He had figured that this was all that would be between the two, a grudging acknowledgement of the other’s right to be in the family as well. However, when Nikolaos joined them on a battlefield in Arcadia to assist Stentor, who lead an army against Athenian troops there, and saw Alexios had tagged along to offer his services as a mercenary, he found them a little closer than that. They bowed over the same set of maps or talked of battles and while they still squabbled, they could speak without dripping sarcasm or anger now. Alexios seemed impressed with Stentor’s knowledge of strategy and Stentor allowed Alexios to feed him information that he gathered on his lone journeys into enemy territory.

By the time the campaign drew to a close, he sometimes saw his sons sit together to speak privately or make away from camp together. The words he caught usually concerned war or Sparta and her customs. It seemed that on the basis of both having turned their life to the fight for Sparta’s victory, at least, they had been able to find similarities. It was more than Nikolaos could have asked for – he would have been happy with icy but peaceful silence.

After they headed back for Sparta, Alexios and Stentor took to the training grounds together most days and measured up against each other with padded swords, blunt spears, and in hand-to-hand combat. One evening, Nikolaos spotted Stentor emerging behind the barrack buildings, looking dishevelled and straightening his _pterugas_ as Alexios trailed behind, his hair wild and breastplate askew. 

“It seems you two still take practice serious,” Nikolaos said with some approval in his voice.

Alexios looked up in surprise and Stentor stopped dead in his movements for a moment.

“Well – Spartans never let up,” Alexios said, glancing at Stentor.

Stentor nodded fervently. He was red-faced from the exhaustion, hair plastered to his head with sweat.

“There is no need to inflate his confidence further,” he threw a sideways glance at Alexios, “but whatever blood flows through him is obviously not human. He makes for a good sparring partner.”

“Only the gods are fit for you, are they?” Alexios mocked.

Stentor just raised a brow and shrugged with a smile that displayed playful arrogance.

Then, Nikolaos had not thought much of the exchange, though he asked Stentor about his budding friendship with his brother.

“He has no manners and little respect,” Stentor scoffed, “but he is for Sparta now… it is for the better. He’s a strong man and resilient. Decent in his own way, I suppose.”

Alexios, whom he questioned without expecting an answer, had shrugged and smiled. “Stentor’s bite is as dangerous as his bark, but he is not so bad once he stops snapping.”

Strange to think that perhaps they related on a deeper level, but Nikolaos had no trouble imagining why. Stentor had been an orphan without anyone to even feed him before Nikolaos had taken him in; Alexios had become such an orphan by Nikolaos throwing him out. It seemed he may have contributed to a connection between his sons, perplexing as it was considering circumstances.

However, the disquieting thought of that stood in no way up to his shock when he came home one day to find Alexios and Stentor embracing.

It was a lazy touch, habitual, with Stentor sitting at the table bent over a letter he was writing and Alexios slumped over his back, chin resting on his head, arms wound loosely around his neck. Stentor ignored him until he had set down the final stroke.

“I thought you had bandits to bother,” he said, still looking over his letter.

“Better to do that at night when they have settled down. You should come. I will teach you to move quietly in the underbrush.”

Stentor snorted. “I don’t get paid to hunt robbers.”

“Oh, but you always like picking a fight.”

Stentor turned his head to look up with a wry grin, perhaps to respond to Alexios or even spur him into a kiss, but that was when he saw Nikolaos, standing in the doorway in uncertain silence. Stentor winced like he’d been slapped and Alexios, following his gaze, startled back as well. However, almost immediately he wavered and dropped his hands back on Stentor’s shoulders, grasping them firmly. Stentor tore his gaze from Nikolaos to stare at him, half panicked, but Alexios just looked back defiantly.

“What?” he asked.

Stentor frowned at him, but though he sat with his back stiff and a slightly ill look on his face as he dared to glance back at Nikolaos, he made no attempt to shake Alexios off, a silent admission of Alexios’ claim on him. Alexios, for his part, looked almost combative, like he expected Nikolaos to try to drag Stentor out by his ear like a child.

Nikolaos could barely muster a reaction. The last thing he had expected when he had pulled Stentor and Alexios off each other in Boeotia, when their weapons had already been drawn, was that they would end up in bed together. They were not, of course, true brothers to each other, neither by blood nor by time spent as family. Still, they were both his sons and Alexios was the one he had driven away. Would he take Stentor from Nikolaos now?

“I had no idea,” he said slowly.

“We didn’t think it was necessary to tell yet,” Alexios said.

His hands were still on Stentor’s shoulders, though they had relaxed a little.

“It has not been that long,” Stentor supplied quickly. “I planned to speak to you about it, _pater_.”

“You did?” Alexios asked, staring.

Stentor looked up at him. “Obviously. Did you think I was not serious when I told you that I – well, you know what I mean.”

“No, I believed you. Still, it’s always deadly serious with you when it’s about Nikolaos.”

For a moment, Alexios smiled impishly as Stentor glared at him, before he remembered that Nikolaos was in the room with them.

“You are adult men, you don’t need to report to me,” Nikolaos told himself and them.

“Sure. It’s just something that you will have to get used to in the long run, I think,” Alexios said, measuring him with his gaze.

Would Alexios try to separate Stentor from him? No, Nikolaos decided. Alexios had worked harder than Nikolaos deserved to bring them all together again. Ten years were a long time to hatch a plan. If he’d wanted revenge, crueller than killing Nikolaos, he could still have murdered or perhaps even seduced Stentor years ago. This was likely the result of chance and opportunity, not design. Perhaps being with Alexios would temper the admiration Stentor had for Nikolaos, but it would not be for lies Alexios told. Nikolaos had to live with the consequences of his actions, he had long decided that.

Besides, Stentor looked quite content under those hands and Alexios’ smile had been true and happy. If the one thing he had accomplished for his sons was bring them together, then perhaps he could say he had done something right, after all.


End file.
